Season 1
by PatronSaintOfBEGA
Summary: Oneshots based on episode titles of another TV series. Includes humour, angst, romance and all the rest. Confused? Read the introduction for an explanation. Rated for multiple pairings, cursing, and general antics in later chapters. Review and I love you!
1. Introduction

**Season 1**

**Introduction:**

Okay, so what's feather-duster doing here? Hey! Get back and read this bit, it's kinda important. Sit down. Thank you.

Right. The basic idea is: feather-duster loves Beyblade G-Revolution. feather-duster also loves Scrubs! And while watching her Scrubs Season 1 DVD once upon a time, feather-duster noticed that the episode titles were a bit inspiring! Soo, like any terrible fangirl, feather-duster got on the laptop and wrote down all the Season 1 episode titles, and set to writing a little G-Rev vignette for each of them. Yes, feather-duster is odd.

Please be aware that these stories have nothing to do with Scrubs beyond titles. You don't have to have seen Scrubs, ever, to understand them - though feather-duster would recommend it cuz it kicks ass!

Also, feather-duster likes BEGA. That means you'll be seeing quite a lot of them. feather-duster doesn't like Season 2 of Beyblade. That means you won't be seeing any of it. feather-duster also likes yaoi/slash/boy-on-boy/shounen-ai/Hiro-screwing-Brooklyn, or whatever you prefer to call it. That means if you no likee, find something else that suits you better. Not everything will be shounen-ai by a long shot, but there will be a fair proportion of it. Also, feather-duster gets the giggles when she tries to write anything explicit, so it'll be implied hot-man-sex at best/worst. There might be the odd touch of boy-girl as well, so watch out for that if you're a hardcore yaoi fan and the thought of hetero makes you blanch and reach for the nearest copy of FAKE volume 7. If you're that hardcore, you'll know what feather-duster is talking about, oh yes.

So, without further ado: story time!

**Next Up: My First Day**


	2. 1: My First Day

**Season 1 - Chapter 1**

**1. My First Day**

It was early morning, and everything was quiet in a hotel suite somewhere in Tokyo. Traffic passed and birds sang outside the window. Sunlight filtered in between the slightly-open curtains. And one dozy neko-jin turned over slowly in bed, rubbing at his eyes with a hand. He liked that time of the morning. It was like being back in the village, when everything was peaceful, and -

"Oh my _God_, what the hell!"

"Aah! Tyson, what're - "

"EEEEEK!"

"_All of you get the hell up right now_! Training starts in five minutes. Ray, get up before I come in there and kick your lazy ass out of bed! My God, why did I agree to work with you idiots..." The irate voice faded into muttering incoherent enough to be in some foreign language. One startled neko-jin sat up in bed, frozen, for several seconds. And then the yelling started.

**Next Up: My Mentor**


	3. 2: My Mentor

**Season 1**

**2. My Mentor**

"Hey, Kai?"

"Hn."

"What're you doooing?"

"None of your damn business, Tyson. Go away."

"Heeey! No, lemme have a look at that - "

"...If I do, will you fuck off and leave me in peace?"

"Gah - just quit with the... Hey, is that the tournament video from last week?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, that's my match with - wait, why're you watching this?"

"Tch. C'mon, idiot."

"Wha? Where're you going?"

"Outside. Your launch needs work. Come on."

"...Okay."

**Next Up: My Best Friend's Mistake**


	4. 3: My Best Friend's Mistake

**Season 1**

**3. My Best Friend's Mistake**

"What the - ?"

"Surpriiise!" Tyson, having entered the lounge, was tackled and glomped by something fast-moving that shot out from a mound of cards, giftwrap and other parephenalia.

"Gyah! Max - !"

"What up there, dawgs? Kudos on the b-day, little dude, I'm fryin' up some snacks for ya right now." Grandpa Granger appeared and vanished in the space of less than three seconds. The two boys blinked after him owlishly for a second before Tyson sat up...and frowned, noticing something odd.

"Hey..why're all the blinds pulled down?" Max rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously.

"Well, uh, I - "

"OMIGOSH! TYSON!" The sound of a high-pitched, feminine squeal, followed by a chorus of other, similar cries, issued from outside in the front yard. And the back yard. And the road. Flattened against the wall sheerly out of reflexes garnered from the last three years, Tyson stared at the blonde American to his side.

"I, um, may have told some fangirls..when your birthday is? And. Um. Where you live...?" Max said hopefully, attempting puppy-dog eyes in an effort not to sustain an injury. Tyson made a face like a deer in the headlights of a semi.

"Tell me ya didn't, Maxie." A nervous laugh.

"Uh, well, they were talking to me and Daichi, and, um one of them was really pretty, and she asked and I guess..it just kinda slipped out?" Tyson banged his head against the wall a few times, but it didn't help. Eventually he grew bored, and leaned back against the wood panelling. Max watched him, concerned. "...Tyson?"

"Ah, don't sweat it, Maxie. They'da found out somehow. Anyway, you know what this means..."

"Huh?" The world champion cracked a sudden grin. He peeked out from under the blinds, causing the crowd of girls outside to go wild.

"...More presents, right?" Max sighed in relief and smiled sheepishly.

"...Right."

**Next Up: My Old Lady**


	5. 4: My Old Lady

**Season 1**

**4. My Old Lady**

I don't like doing this. It's always the same, every month. I follow the orderly who knows me through the halls I recognise to a room that's only too familiar. The whole building is dark and dirty. The lights flicker. I hate this place. The orderly leaves me alone with her, and I reluctantly move to the bedside. I lower my eyes so I don't have to look, but I should speak to her.

"...Hello, mama." A hand brushes my arm, and it's all I can do not to pull away.

"Tala...?" I blink and look down at her, frowning. She recognises me now? I'm not sure how I feel about that. Maybe her last operation really helped; God knows she's had enough. "...No...wait.." I watch her glazed eyes move to stare up at my face. "No, you're...you're Ati!" I sigh and relax, although her skinny claw is grabbed onto my arm painfully. She looks at me accusingly, glassy eyes big in her thin face. "Ati, how could you leave me like this? I haven't seen you for months, and the rent's due. The boys've been asking for you, too." I look away again.

"...I know. I'm sorry."

"You're a terrible father, Ati. And a terrible man. I wish you wouldn't leave me like this."

"I'm sorry, ma - Natasha." I pry her hand off me as gently as I can manage. "I'll..try to be around more now, ok?" Her mouth gapes in a kind of smile, but it just looks repulsive. She lays back against the pillow and frowns at me accusingly as I move towards the door.

"...Where are you going, Ati?" I pause for a second, one hand on the handle.

"Just to get a coffee. I'll be right back." She nods and closes her eyes again.

"Fine. Come back soon."

"I'll be right back," I repeat. I close the door firmly behind me, walk back along the filthy, dank corridor with the flickering lights, and leave the building. It's stormy out today, but just as the rain starts to soak through my hair, an umbrella appears over my head. I turn and look up. "...Bryan." He stares at me with his pale eyes as we start to walk away down the street. He wants me to talk. "She called me my father's name again," I say eventually, watching the pavement pass by under my feet.

"Hm."

"Where's the car?"

"Next block along." We walk a little further, and pause at a crossing.

"...I'm going back again next month."

"I know."

**Next Up: My Two Dads**


	6. 5: My Two Dads

**Season 1**

**5. My Two Dads**

"Hey! Tyson! Tidy up your room!"

Curses. Vacuuming sounds.

"Oh, and could you take out the trash while you're down here?"

Grumble, grumble, grumble.

"Who ate all the cookies again? Tyson!"

Apology, puppy-dog eyes, run to the corner store.

"Hey! Tyson, get your stuff off the stairs!"

Bundle stuff into downstairs closet. Lean on door. Phone rings.

"...Hey, Tyson, you wanna go bowling next time I'm home?"

"Sorry, Dad. Gramps and Hiro said I'm grounded unless I clean out the garage..."

**Next Up: My Bad**


	7. 6: My Bad

**Season 1**

**6. My Bad**

Feminine eyes blinked nervously from under the peak of a beret. Three other sets of eyes looked back at them, some confused, some stupefied, and some a little embarrassed.

"Well," Enrique said after some time, "No worries. A - all the more for me, right?" Johnny gave in, sighed, and belted the Italian around one ear.

"Shut up, Casanunda."

"Hey! He's shorter than me!" Seeing another ceaseless argument coming on, Robert turned away and raised a hand to rub at his temples. Luckily for him, Johnny was ready with a comeback. And another smack.

"Fine then, Enrique-poo. Can it." Enrique blinked, glancing back and forth between him and Oliver.

"Oh God! You're contagious!" This earned him three concerned looks, and another well-deserved blunt trauma to the head. He got up from the floor several seconds later, and faced the Frenchman again, rubbing at the back of his aching skull. "..Uh, well, anyway, don't worry about it. We're cool. I mean, heh, it's not like we're gonna..gonna burn you at the stake like some kinda crazy loony Catholics or something.." The blonde trailed off suddenly as both Johnny and Robert looked at him incredulously. He paled. "Oh God. You're not, are you?"

"No," Oliver sighed after a moment, "I am."

**Next Up: My Super Ego**


	8. 7: My Super Ego

**Season 1**

**7. My Super Ego**

Ray sauntered back over to the rest of his team, grinning. The girl had been nice. Pretty. Sweet. And she'd laughed at every single thing he'd said. She'd got his phone number. She had even smiled at that, now he came to think about it. He grinned again. If he was ever back in the neighbourhood, a girl that'd been that happy just to get his phone number, well, she was a sure thing.

"Hey, Ray?"

"Huh?" Smile fading a little, his attention redirected to Daichi, who was frowning at him intently. "What's up?"

"Nothin', but...what's that green thing stuck in your front teeth?"

**Next Up: My Fifteen Minutes**


	9. 8: My Fifteen Minutes

**Season 1**

**8. My Fifteen Minutes**

"Fucking _hell_." I slam my hand into the nearest wall and mutter a few choice curses. "Godammit - " This carries on for several minutes. I'm not given to being emotional, but by the time I sink to the floor I've exhausted my entire vocabulary of Russian, English and Japanese curses, not to mention a few picked up from other languages. What? I'm well-travelled and educated. God damnit, I know I'm better than him!

I look up. There's a hole in the wall. Not a big one, just a dent where I've been punching it. Not emotional usually, I know. It's just so fucking..humiliating, I suppose. Maybe that's the right word. I can't even believe it. I'd looked at my watch before I left. Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen fucking minutes. That's all it took, just now. For that...goddamn stupid, idiotic, vacantly smiling _hippie_ with a head full of fresh air and fairy dust, to - to beat me. I can admit it. Just about. It's still fucking ridiculous. Three years slogging around the world, at one tournament or another with a pack of what can best be described as morons. What seems like an entire life's worth of training, and practicing, and working at my skill. After all that, I can admit it smarts to get beaten by some orange-haired screwball that's probably spent more time on one end of a hash pipe than at a training dish. My God. What the hell's wrong with me? Maybe I'm just not seeing the weaknesses like I used to. Maybe I just lost focus. Or maybe that walking acid trip is actually good at the game. At the moment, that's an unknown factor, but I can watch and wait. I'm patient enough once I've finished being pissed off, and this's stung enough to make me follow it up. Yeah, I don't take losing lightly. It's important to me to win, especially when it's something I've worked at all my life while the other jackass's been lazing about talking with bugs or whatever. So yes, I am going to work this out. And I am going to win. Sometimes it's about believing in the way I've always done things and sometimes it's just about not wanting to get beaten so easily. Either way - things are going to be different next time.

**Next Up: My Day Off**


	10. 9: My Day Off

**Season 1**

**9. My Day Off**

"Sir! Sir, there's been a - " Ian, having entered the room in a hurry, stopped. Rather abruptly. It took him some time to remove his jaw from where it had fallen floorwards and become entangled with his assault rifle. "Ack! Ah, I - I'm, um, sorry sir, I'll..I'll come back later, I - "

"Out! And stay out!"

"B - but sir, it's important, there's a - "

"I DON'T CARE! TELL ME TOMORROW!" A bar of soap whirred past the small blader's ear, and he decided to make a run for it. As the door slammed behind him and his now-trailing ammo clip, Boris relaxed back into the bath. Somehow, they always managed to forget his day off.

**Next Up: My Nickname**


	11. 10: My Nickname

**Season 1**

**10. My Nickname**

"Heads up, Max!"

"Gah!"

"Hahaha!"

"Yeah? Yeah, well...touche, Monsieur Pussycat!" Ray sat up, surprised not only at having recently been belted to the floor with a pillow.

"...Wh - what did you just call me," he asked, laughing. Max leaned down and shook the pillow in his face.

"Mister Pussycat." The neko-jin snorted.

"Yeah? Then you're...a blonde Barbie!"

"Haha! You hear that, Malibu Barbie?" Tyson joined the group, clouting both of them upside the head with a throw cushion. The two exchanged looks. The world champion squawked as he was hit simultaneously by two hurled pillows.

"And you are - "

" - A piggy fat pig!" A hi-five was exchanged. Tyson sat up a few seconds later, grinning.

"What about the others?" Max scratched his head.

"The Chief's...uh...the Chief," he pointed out wisely.

"Thanks, Brainwave Barbie," a voice interrupted from the doorway, "All of you pick that mess up. Training starts in ten minutes." The trio watched as their team captain exited the room again.

"...And there goes His Royal Kainess," Tyson muttered. A second later he was floored by a cushion hurled from the doorway.

Somewhere in the next room, Kai smirked to himself.

**Next Up: My Own Personal Jesus**


	12. 11: My Own Personal Jesus

**Season 1**

**11. My Own Personal Jesus**

He is not afraid. He loves this man very much, but does not live in fear of losing him. Logically, perhaps, he should; he considers sometimes that others may desire to take the man away for themselves. He considers that the man is handsome, well-built and suave at 23 years old, while he prefers to stay away from mirrors; there is no satisfactory cure for the childish face and shock of ginger hair that reside in them. But this is accepted. He is resigned to, should he ever reach 30, still having the expression of a startled ten-year-old, and hair which will stand on end in every conceivable direction. He does not expect that Hiro will change much, either; Hiro is already seven years nearer to it and shows no signs of altering. Logically, he considers that he perhaps ought to feel concern for this. Logic, however, has always been the domain of others, and does not interest him. But it is more than that which nullifies fear. At the crux of the relationship there is a very simple, fixated faith. The man has said he will not leave him, and had he felt unwilling to believe it, the two would never have shared a bed, or a second thought. Hiro is periodically amazed that he views things so plainly, but is prepared to indulge the idea. And so it goes on. Occasionally he lays awake at night, wondering if the man notices how tightly the thin arms laced around his waist are actually clinging to him. He has never yet woken to find the man absent.

**Next Up: My Blind Date**


	13. 12: My Blind Date

**Season 1**

**12. My Blind Date**

The Scene: A Restaurant Lobby. It is a clear evening outside, but the restaurant is quiet. A car arrives on the street beyond the windows, and a group of teenagers cascade out, dragging the eldest of the group - a seventeen-year-old in reasonably smart clothing - to the restaurant doors. The group depart, with joking threats and laughter; one says something about a bet. The seventeen-year-old watches the car leave, scowling after it, but stays where he is.

Shortly afterwards, a girl of similar age - perhaps a little younger, and also in smart clothing - approaches. Both sets of eyes widen as they notice each other. However, she walks up to him nonetheless, and smiles pleasantly, adjusting her purse.

"...Kai."

"Hillary." Both consider each other for a moment. Eventually, he speaks. "...I'm going to kill them." She smiles again.

"Not if I get there first." He raises an eyebrow, smirks, and holds the restaurant door open for her.

**Next Up: My Balancing Act**


	14. 13: My Balancing Act

**Season 1**

**13. My Balancing Act**

I storm through the hallways angrily, a scowl on my face just to ward off any enquirers, door-knockers, or worse, teammates. None of them have a sense of proportion, logic, or balance, all of which are important qualities. They fixate on one thing. Obviously, this one thing varies between personalities, but be it family, activity, nature or even themself, it's not healthy. I strive to maintain balance; I've just come from the gym, where I've spent the last two and a half hours, after a lengthy history study in the library, and some extensive training. I am ambitious, yes, but letting down my family would be a terrible thing to do. And I don't let ambition take over my life.

"Oh, hey Garland! Where're you go - " I brush Mystel aside as he tries to follow me.

"I have work to do," I snarl at him, "Very important." That throws him off, and he retreats hastily, leaving me to slam my bedroom door behind me and find my glasses. I check the clock anxiously, leafing through a newspaper...and then sigh with relief. Just in time. I bolt the door and settle down on my couch, glasses on and newspaper in hand as the TV flickers to life.

"You're watching Comedy Plus, and now it's time for South Park..."

**Next Up: My Drug Buddy**


	15. 14: My Drug Buddy

**Season 1**

**14. My Drug Buddy**

Sometimes, Hiro thinks it would be nice to watch him sleep. By and large, Hiro is not a romantic, but someday he would like to watch his loved one sleep. He has seen many other people sleeping; his family, his friends, even drunken hobos. But never the one person he wants to. He is very much in love with the boy, and so of course was understanding when informed of the unusual circumstances meaning his desire is impossible to achieve; it puzzles him even now, but the facts as he has seen them remain immutable - Brooklyn does not sleep. Not naturally, at any rate. Hiro is not sure which is worse; waking in the early hours to find his lover staring at the wall, wide awake and blinking slowly; or the comatose state induced by prescription drugs, in which the boy could easily be mistaken for a corpse, as he hardly breathes and is impossible to wake. Hiro is prepared to accept his lover's somewhat abstract relationship with reality, in fact, he finds it affectionately entertaining. However, he has read the prescription, and is slightly depressed by the knowledge that even to simply sleep beside him for one night, his lover must be in a catatonic stupor induced by enough sedative to knock over a horse. He feels that maybe this is wrong, this is somehow his fault. That if he was a better lover himself, or a more calming presence, then he could get his loved one to rest without being drugged into it. He wants to be the one to achieve this. He would like to be the only one. And he will wake up, sooner or later, to find that he is.

**Next Up: My Bed Banter and Beyond**


	16. 15: My Bed Banter and Beyond

**Season 1**

**15. My Bed Banter & Beyond**

"Oof..." Two bodies collapse, two exhausted heads resting on two welcoming pillows. One laughs.

"Hah, that was good..." The other nods wearily in agreement, pushing sweaty blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, but you kinda lost the rhythm in the middle." The first waves a hand carelessly.

"Doesn't matter, right? We still had a good time."

"Uh huh." There is quiet for several minutes, only broken by the gradual slowing down of breaths. Eventually, the blonde one sits up again, grinning.

"On for another pillow fight then, Tyson?" The other grins.

"Right y'are, Maxie."

**(C'mon...didn't feather-duster yank your chain there? Not even just a little? Hehehe.)**

**Next Up: My Heavy Meddle**


	17. 16: My Heavy Meddle

**Season 1**

**16. My Heavy Meddle**

Boris Balcov was well and truly lost. Not in the sense of geography; actually, that was the one area in which he did know where he was. However, he was very much regretting, as he sank down on a bench, having agreed to take team BEGA off Hiro's hands for a day. The poor young adult had gazed at him with hope shining in his eyes as Boris agreed to take the elite team out to a theme park to give him a little time off, and had practically bolted out of the door. Boris realised, sitting on the bench, he should have been more suspicious. He should have observed Hiro's reaction. And he _really_ should have Just Said No.

That didn't help now, however, and the facts remained thusly; he was stuck at a large, popular, busy theme park, with a minibus and absolutely no idea where five bladers had gone to. He believed he had misplaced them somewhere between Crusher scowling and sulking because his sister couldn't come too; Mystel eating too much sugar and consequently utilising every solid structure as gymnasium equipment; Ming Ming whining _ceaselessly_ about fangirls, fanboys, fingernails, and the rest of her marathon stream of complaints; Garland writing a precisely timed itinerary and demanding that everyone should follow it whether they wanted to or could eat lunch in exactly three minutes or not; and Brooklyn politely interrogating every employee he could find concerning the "ecological risk hazard depth", which Boris gathered was something to do with the effects of the park on the local environment. Either way, it seemed to cause the unfortunate park employees symptoms of fainting, weeping, soft tissue damage, minor brain death, and deferring to some other victim. Boris was not having a good day. Resignedly, he got up from the bench - putting his head in his hands and sobbing had not, in fact, improved the situation at all - and made for the minibus, hoping that maybe some of BEGA's team had brains and would hopefully end up there.

However, upon reaching the park exit, he was surprised if not pleased to discover the entire of his new team waiting outside the gates. They all looked up at him in perfect synchronisation as he approached, fire in his eyes and the burning question _where the **hell** did you all go_ ready on his lips.

"Where the _hell _did you all go!" He demanded. The he paused and looked at them. Crusher and Garland were both covered in lipstick-marks. Mystel looked sorry for himself, nursing one arm in a neon green cast. Ming Ming sat fuming against the fence, dripping with slimy water and pondweed. Brooklyn was inexplicably wearing a badge reading "Ezekiel Morris: Customer Services Manager". Five sets of eyes were giving a most definite _you don't want to know_ look. "...Well?" The team exchanged glances. Eventually Garland spoke.

"Well, you got lost somewhere, and then a load of fangirls appeared, so Crusher and I got stuck there because the other three bolted. We got thrown out for making a disturbance." Mystel interrupted.

"Yeah, but some of the girls were chasing me so I ran away into the woods bit and went up a tree but they started shaking the tree and I fell out and broke my arm so I had to go to hospital but then they brought me back here and said to wait outside for whoever I was with. They wouldn't let me back in." Ming Ming snorted at him.

"Huh! You think that's bad! A crowd were _demanding_ me to sing, so I went out on the jetty and started a _lovely_ song of mine, which I wrote myself, but then some..some..some _barbarian_ shoved me in the water because they didn't _appreciate_ the music!" There was a pause. Everyone looked at Brooklyn, who smiled serenely.

"...The people who run this park are jackbooted environmental Nazi terrorists. They don't seem to like being told so, though. Or having their security systems and internal company structuring altered. How odd." Boris stared for a few seconds, then decided he really didn't want to know. Ever.

"Alright. Everybody back to the bus, we're going home." Much to his relief, the team obediently got up, hiked across the miles of car park, and piled back into the bus. He started the engine. He put the machine into gear with a little more force than was really necessary. He stamped on the accelerator. Finally, the day was over. He could just hand them back to Hiro, and -

"I'm hungry."

"My arm hurts!"

"Ming Ming, your dripping is staining the bus."

"I can't help it! I don't _like_ being covered in...yucky green stuff!"

"It's only duckweed. And you shouldn't jump in the lake, you'll upset the ecosystem - " Boris took a deep breath.

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!_"

**(Longest chapter evar!)**

**Next Up: My Student**


	18. 17: My Student

**Season 1**

**17. My Student**

I have a student.

My student is exceptional. He achieves effortless victory over a competitor I know as powerful. This interests me.

My student looks harmless. When we are introduced he wears white and blinks up at me with thoughtful big eyes and it makes me smile. This is my failing.

My student is polite. Everyone and anyone gets a smile, and then his rapt attention should they choose to speak. I have not previously been addressed so unfailingly as "sensei". This is irony and he knows it.

My student is idle. He feels no call to improve himself, and refuses work in any manner. When I cajole, nag, or downright order him otherwise, he looks at me sweetly and diverts my attention. This is asking for trouble.

My student is easily distracted. I try to know him better and find out why. Human beings are too slow for him; he prefers nature, and I have seen his fickle intellect captured for an entire afternoon by the reflection of light on a glass. This is something I do not understand well.

My student is a lost cause. His supposed team captain has given up, and tells me so, shrugging helplessly. We have tried every possibility, the captain and I, but he acts only of his own accord. This is frustrating.

My student does not understand priorities. He sits in the park and talks to birds, reproving me with a frown when my approach scares them off. He will not train to face an opponent he has previously beaten, and says I worry too much. My aura, he tells me, is fraying at the edges. This is why I worry.

My student is lost. He has been rather brutally if deservedly shocked, and I am unsympathetic. I have told him he is spoilt and now he stares up at me, confused. This is the time when things will change.

My student lets me teach him. I know he is wary, still confused, and skittish with anger. But he will submit to a guiding hand. This is progress, of a sort.

My student is insistent. He now demands me to teach him, even through the small hours of the morning, when I am tired and he looks ready to collapse. There are dark circles around his eyes because he refuses to sleep. This is excessive.

My student worries me. I feel inexplicably guilty. I try to continue a lesson, on his request, but he curls up and twitches and shakes his head and talks to people who are not here and smirks at me occasionally. Destruction seems to amuse him. The space around him appears inexplicably dark, and he is difficult to see at times. This is something that has to stop soon.

My student causes chaos. Buildings are torn up from their foundations and lurch nauseatingly in the air. The sun has vanished behind the dim leviathan of a vortex that hovers over our heads. I recognised that he was highly unstable but I could not have predicted this extremity. I feel useless; I cannot help. My brother has gone to try. This is my lesson.

My student says he's sorry. I nod and smile gently. He is calm now but lacks the ability to focus on me; the staff are giving him something. He does not like this place and is apparently discontented when I leave. I tell him it's alright and he blinks at me slowly, not understanding. This is painful to watch.

My student lets me help him to pack. He does not own much, mostly old books in obscure languages. There is a small notebook with the phone numbers of friends now written in it, among pages of his illegible scrawl. The numbers are revered. This is of new importance.

My student has disappeared. He said goodbye and thanked me politely and smiled vaguely at others. He let me hug him, shivering with nervous tension in my arms, even as his hands - small hands, with fragile, bony fingers - clutched desperately into my shirt for a moment. A taxi arrived to take him to the airport. I waved goodbye and only realised this evening that I have no idea where he is going from there. It could be anywhere. I will call the phone number he gave me, later this week. This is my responsibility. My student.

**Next Up: My Tuscaloosa Heart**


	19. 18: My Tuscaloosa Heart

**Season 1**

**18. My Tuscaloosa Heart**

"Ah..."

Nothing like relaxing after a long day. He flops down on the cot, backwards, feet hanging over the edge.

"Hmm."

Too quiet. A hand goes to the stereo; warbling guitar breaks the almost-silence.

_Woke up this mornin', withahout youuuu - _

He smiles to himself and relaxes into the familiar tune, toeing irritating boots away from his sore, cold feet.

_- Heaaart is achin', sky is bluuuuuuue - _

He looks around, assuring himself to be alone in the room, and once a cursory glance has revealed no friends hiding in corners, he takes a breath and joins in.

"_ - An' all Ah can dooo, is close mah eyes ahnd think ahbout youuuuu - _"

He prides himself, personally, on imitating the singer's nasal voice particularly well. Feet kick lazily to the twanging rhythm as he follows into the chorus.

"_ - Youuuu played a paaaart, sweet bunneh - _"

He briefly wonders who "Bunny" is, or was. He decides that he doesn't particularly care, but wonders if she or he was good-looking. He suspects so, and takes the next line with gusto.

"_ - Youuuu broke mah Tuscaloosah heaaaaart - _"

Thank God, he reflects, that his friends are held up in training. Otherwise he would never have been able to do this. He doesn't like to imagine what his friends would say if they had any idea this is his favourite song. Shrugging to himself, he continues to sing.

Outside the door, two jaws have made themselves very well acquainted with the stone flooring. Bryan grins smugly to their owners, folding his arms. He draws himself up self-righteously.

"I told you so," he points out.

"..."

"..."

Ian and Spencer do not respond. They are too shellshocked to form words. Bryan can say nothing more, either, as they turn back to the sliver of doorway, as he realises that to open his mouth again will only release the avalanche of laughter he is trying _so_ hard to hold in. Hearing the chorus start up again, and the warbling voice from within the room follow it in truly heartfelt tones,

" _- Youuuuu broke mah Tuscaloosah heaaaaart, darlin' bunneh - _"

Ian has only one thing to say, blinking in utter confusion;

"Who would've guessed Tala likes country so much?"

For a moment, his teammates do not respond. Then, slowly, Spencer gets up from his previous crouched position by the door, and starts to walk away.

"Where're you going," Bryan hisses, frowning. The blonde turns back and grins.

"...Tape recorder."

**Note: Lyrics are taken from a parodical country song as performed by Dr Kelso in the episode of _Scrubs_ also titled "My Tuscaloosa Heart". **

**Trust feather-duster when she says this is probably a _lot_ funnier if you've heard that version...**

**Next up: My Old Man**


	20. 19: My Old Man

**Season 1**

**19. My Old Man**

"...And Dad, this is my team captain, Kai. He's agreed to stay for a couple of days to give the kids some blading tips, and help out with our training structure."

Rei watched his father's indiscernible eyes move slowly between him, and the other stood frowning at his side.

"It is nice," the man rumbled eventually, "To find happiness together, so young. You have my blessing." With that, he turned and walked away.

Rei tried not to hyperventilate; Kai was looking silently amused.

Rei also tried to tell himself that the split-second for which his captain's face had more resembled the proverbial deer-in-headlights, meant nothing at all.

**(Holy Hell, an update! feather-duster didn't get anything written on Season 1 for ages, but hopefully it should be all done soon! Could use a bit more encouragement though - upwards of 600 views (YAY!) and only TWO of you reviewed? That's just lazy, people!**

**...But feather-duster loves you anyway.)**

**Next up: My Way or the Highway**


	21. 20: My Way or the Highway

**Season 1**

**20. My Way or the Highway**

Sizzle.

Sizzle.

_Tshf tshf tshf tshf - _

A shadow fell over the pan as Bryan loomed up out of nowhere. Anyone else attempting a similar manoeuvre would doubtless have been immobilised several feet away, but Tala didn't feel the need to defend himself from Bryan, and therefore continued to poke at the edge of the pancake with a palette knife.

Eventually, the frying piece of batter relinquished its hold on the pan's surface under some quite drastic prodding. Tala slid the palette knife under it and flipped the pancake over, depositing it upside-down with a faint nod of satisfaction. Only then did he spare a glance for Bryan, who hadn't said a word. Bryan had in fact been watching in apparent fascination, but tilted one eyebrow to meet his captain's inquiring stare.

"What?"

"Hmm." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Tala scowled at him.

"_What_, Kuznetsov?"

The pancake, oblivious, continued to fry.

"...That," Bryan declared confidently, "Is not the way to toss a pancake."

His captain blinked at him, wondering precisely when his own alcohol tolerance had mysteriously switched with, say, Ian's, and also when he'd been drinking. It was only 9am, according to the ticking cat clock with the moving eyes adorning one wall. Said clock was a housewarming gift from Kai, incidentally, and exactly the kind of thing he found funny.

Tala did not find it funny.

"Kuznetsov," he snarled at the hovering shoulder-devil of that name, "You, if anything, know even _less_ about this type of procedure than I do. So shut your mouth if you want to eat this morning."

Bryan smirked at the word "procedure".

"That's not the right way to toss a pancake," he persisted, hovering deliberately a little closer. His team captain, short-tempered at the best of times, slammed one hand on the counter and whirled to face him, brandishing the palette knife.

"_Well that is how I toss it!_" the shorter of the two ground out, exasperated.

Bryan leered.

"Is it really?"

Years of training prevented him from exuding more than a snort and a grin at the _look_ on his captain's face as the innuendo struck.

They did not, however, allow him to escape the kitchen faster than the ballistic frying pan aimed at his head.

**-----**

**In case anyone's not sure: "tossing it"/"tossing off" is a euphemism for masturbation.**

**(with a palette knife? oO)**

**Dirty-minded Bryan is the best thing since scary ticking cat clocks. You know, the ones with the moving eyes and tail...**

**-----**

**Next Up: My Sacrificial Clam**


	22. 21: My Sacrificial Clam

**Season 1**

**21. My Sacrificial Clam**

"The point is, the - the point is, does anyone even _want_ this? I mean, seriously. Do you want it? No? How about you? See, I don't think anyone even _wants_ it. It's sad, y'know? Hillary doesn't want it and Max doesn't want it and Daichi doesn't want it and Rei doesn't - "

"For fuck's sake, Tyson, just eat the damn clam," Hillary suggested, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, okay."

**-----**

**...feather-duster really has to admit to having no clue what a Sacrificial Clam is supposed to be. Google and Wiki have failed, as has watching the _Scrubs_ episode. Care to shed any light on the matter? Do so in a review!**

**Also, shellfish are _nasty_.**

**-----**

**Next Up: My Occurrence**


	23. 22: My Occurrence

**Season 1**

**22. My Occurrence**

In one sense, Garland was pleased that he never had to tell anyone. Nobody asked him for an explanation as to why all the towels in the East Wing of the house were now pink, and wouldn't wash clean. Nobody asked him why the carpet had to be replaced in that one bathroom, or why he had gained several extra frown lines overnight.

He was glad that nobody asked, because then he would have had to tell them about listening outside the bathroom door in the middle of the night because he had a bad feeling, about finding his best friend half-giggling, half-sobbing deliriously in a reddish splotch of his own blood, from piercing the arteries in both ankles and scraping the foot-surface veins to pieces with a Swiss Army knife that he had got from who knew where. About how _they said it was time to but I thought you'd be here but anyway hehehe it doesn't matter right_ was explained with fixed smile and glazed eyes while he panicked and called the emergency services, asking them to keep it quiet please and don't use the sirens you'll wake my sister up. About a lot of things after that, not to mention the things before that he'd ignored or not noticed.

On the other hand, Garland was not pleased. Nobody asked him why the towels had all turned pink because they already knew.

**-----**

**...Yes, feather-duster's lawyers have now posted the official eviction notice requiring BEGA to remove themselves from both her fics _and_ her cellar. Keep ya posted on how that goes.**

**In case anyone was wondering (/actually reading this XD), this chapter was brought on mostly by the Simon Armitage poem "I Say**** I Say I Say". Check it out for extra credit, and an introduction to a totally rockin' Brit poet! Seriously!**

**The other contributing factor was feather-duster _finally_ managing to track down some clips of the last few episodes of G-Rev, on YouTube. She hadn't seen them in a few years (since they were on TV, actually), but upon re-viewing has remembered that Brooklyn is Coco for Crazy Puffs. Turns out the fandom wasn't actually exaggerating, he really has lost it from every direction. And it's not too big a step from destroying large areas of Tokyo, to mutilating one's own feet with a Swiss Army knife.**

**Review and...you get a free pink towel.**

**-----**

**Next Up: My Hero**


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